Silas sat beside Diog in the summoning chamber, checking his wounds. The acid burns from the Corrosive Slug were healing well, but slowly. New fur had begun growing over the scarred patches, though it retained a silvery tint where the frost had sealed the wounds.

He gently ran his fingers through the new growth, noting how the texture differed from Diog's usual coat, slightly coarser, with an almost metallic sheen to it.

"Two, maybe three more days," Bonereghard observed from the doorway. "Mythic creatures heal faster than most, but that acid did considerable damage. The frost preservation technique, while effective, does tend to leave its mark."

Diog's tail thumped weakly against the cushions, his eyes alert despite his condition. He tried to lift his head, but Silas gently pressed him back down.

"We may not have three days," Bonereghard continued, producing a blood-stained piece of parchment with his pristine white gloves. "The Gemini recovered this from our visitors last night. Before they, ah, concluded their business. Rather messily, I might add."

Silas took the map, studying the detailed sketches of the estate's layout. Windows, entry points, and rooms were marked with disturbing accuracy. More concerning were the notes in the margins, references to other documents, and what appeared to be a larger plan.

Even the rotation patterns of the Gemini and response times were documented.

"This isn't just a random robbery attempt," Silas said.

"Indeed not." Bonereghard's voice carried an edge of steel beneath its usual cultured tone. "Someone has been watching us quite carefully. The timing is far too convenient to be coincidental."

"You think they were waiting for this?" Silas asked.

"Obviously. And they'll try again, likely before Diog recovers." Bonereghard adjusted his monocle with one bony finger. "We need to find out who's behind this. Quickly. Before they realize their advance team won't be reporting back."

Silas glanced at Silas Junior, who was contentedly oozing in a corner, leaving a glistening trail across the expensive marble floor. "I can't exactly investigate with just Junior for protection. He doesn't exactly inspire fear or command respect."

"No, you cannot." Bonereghard's tone was matter-of-fact. "Which is why I will be accompanying you. In a somewhat... modified capacity. The estate's bindings do allow for certain... creative interpretations."

"What do you mean?" Silas watched as his butler's usual rigid posture seemed to shift slightly.

"The estate binds me, normally. But I can store enough mana to maintain a temporary external form. Five minutes at most in my combat aspect, longer in a more... economical shape. Think of it as an emergency provision in my contract."

"You're going to be my summon?" Silas couldn't keep the surprise from his voice. The thought of the dignified butler reducing himself to a summoned creature seemed almost absurd.

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"Just this once," Bonereghard said firmly, straightening his impeccable coat. "Until you've proven yourself capable of not dying immediately upon leaving these walls. Consider it a professional courtesy. After all, training a new master would be terribly inconvenient."

"And what's this 'economical shape' you mentioned?"

Bonereghard sighed, the sound carrying centuries of resigned dignity. "Allow me to demonstrate."

The skeletal butler's form began to shift, his substantial frame dissolving into purple flames. When the transformation finished, what remained was a floating skull wearing Bonereghard's signature monocle and sporting an immaculate mustache formed of white energy. Bat-like wings of shadow extended from either side, and the whole assemblage was surrounded by purple fire that encased the skull.

"Well?" the floating skull asked in Bonereghard's familiar dry tone. "Will this suffice? I tried to maintain some sense of decorum, though it's rather challenging without proper shoulders."

Silas stared, trying to not laugh. "That's... different."

"Yes, well, maintaining my full battle form outside the estate would drain mana rather quickly. This arrangement is more... sustainable." The skull bobbed slightly in the air, adjusting its position with an almost fussy precision. "Though I do miss having shoulders. Proper posture is so much harder to maintain when one is primarily decorative. And do try not to mention this to the Gemini - they're already insufferable about their superior mobility."

"And you can still fight like this?" Silas watched as the purple flames flickered and swirled around the skull.

"When necessary. Though I'd prefer to avoid combat unless absolutely required. Maintaining my war aspect requires considerable energy, and the paperwork for property damage is always so tedious."

The floating skull drifted closer. "Now then, shall we begin our investigation? The sooner we identify our would-be thieves, the sooner I can return to my proper form. These wings are rather drafty, and the lack of proper cuffs is most distressing."

Silas nodded, still trying to process the sight of his butler-turned-floating-skull. "Where do we start?"

"The map references several locations in the outter rings. Warehouses, meeting points, possible safehouses. We'll begin there." Bonereghard's flame-wreathed skull turned toward Diog. "Rest well, young majesty. We shall handle this matter in your absence. Try not to let Junior redecorate while we're gone."

Diog barked softly in acknowledgment, showing clear concern for his master.

"And Junior?" Silas asked, watching as the rat-slug hybrid attempted to climb over its own trail.

"Will remain here, will remain here as well." Bonereghard's skull somehow managed to convey extreme disdain despite lacking most facial features. "The Gemini will ensure nothing untoward occurs during our absence."

"Got it." Silas gathered his equipment, a small coin purse, some basic supplies, and the bloodstained map. He checked his pockets twice, knowing Bonereghard would never let him hear the end of it if he forgot something essential. "Ready when you are."

"One more thing," Bonereghard added, his flames pulsing slightly with emphasis. "While we're outside, you'll need to maintain the pretense that I am, in fact, your summon. Try to look appropriately commanding. Perhaps practice scowling - it tends to help with the overall impression."

"How exactly does one command a floating skull?"

"With great dignity and occasional finger pointing, at least, that is how Dewalt would do it." Bonereghard replied, his mustache of dark energy twitching slightly. "Shall we? The lower city awaits, and I'd prefer to conclude this business before anyone notices I've reduced myself to such a theatrical form."

They made their way through the estate's halls, passing the Gemini who stood sentinel at their posts. The cursed armors' blank faces flickered as Bonereghard drifted past in his new form, and Silas could have sworn he heard the faintest sound of metallic chuckling.

"Not a word," the skull muttered as they passed. "They'll never let me hear the end of this."

"Remember," the skull said quietly as they walked, "I can maintain my combat form for exactly five minutes if needed. After that, things become... considerably less dignified. And I do mean considerably."

"What happens then?"

The floating skull turned towards him as if to shrug. "You'll likely die, and I'll be banished back to the estate."